Under Control
by Simon920
Summary: Death stalks the hallways of Brixton Academy. Not good.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimers: These guys aren't mine, they don't belong to me, worst luck, so don't bother me.

Archive: Fine, but if you want it, please ask first.

Feedback: Hell, yes.

**Under Control…**

**Part One**

The end of sixth period, only two more until the end of the day. Kids were swarming the halls at Brixton Academy in the usual crush between classes, trying to change books at their lockers and push through the other students to their next class, all in three minutes. The students and teachers were veterans and used to it, it happened more than a half dozen times a day, five days a week. It looked chaotic but the system worked surprisingly well, even allowing a few seconds for comments and shouted insults along the way.

"Yo, loser!"

"Bite me."

"Mr. Thacker, throw that and you'll be spending the rest of the afternoon in detention."

"Whaddya mean there's a _quiz_?"

Dick Grayson went to the boys' locker room, heading to the third bay of lockers, opening his padlock and changing into his gym uniform without conscious thought. It was just another Tuesday.

"Hey, Dick, volleyball again?"

"Still, yeah."

"Dude, your uniform is scoring some serious stench."

"I'm taking it home today." Well, he would now, anyway. Alfred would have some choice words, no doubt.

Gray tee-shirt with Brixton Academy silk screened on the front and 'Grayson' in magic marker on the back, gray gym shorts, dirty sneakers, all seriously ugly and in need of a trip through the washing machine. Usually Dick preferred brighter clothing, something he tended to keep to himself and which he blamed on his circus background. He didn't pay all that much attention to the talk around him from the rest of the guys. It wasn't that he was stand-offish, he wasn't, it was just that he was thinking about the text message he'd gotten from Alfred a few minutes ago, reminding him about that he was supposed to meet Bruce at Wayne Enterprises after school to talk about God knew what. Lately he'd been trying to get Dick to show more interest in the business side and running of the company. Boring. Important, yes, but boring.

Out in the gym he walked to his usual spot as the class half-heartedly started the warm up calisthenics; jumping jacks, squat thrusts, five laps around the gym. They were just about to start the volleyball games when the fire bell started clanging, everyone automatically heading for the nearest exit when a secretary's voice came over the intercom, "Everyone go to their locker, get you coat then walk directly out the nearest door. Please move quietly and quickly."

That was weird; throughout the school year they always had at least one fire drill during each school period so they'd know all the exit routes they might need; it was part of the local fire code. They'd go outside, hang out for a couple of minutes then go back in and pick up where they left off, no big deal.

Stop and get their coats? Sure, it as winter and around twenty-five degrees today but they'd be back in pretty fast. This'd never happened before and the buzz in the halls was wondering why the change in routine.

The students did as asked, Dick and his friends meeting up in the parking lot, wondering what was going on as the minutes stretched on.

"Man, it's frigging cold, what's keeping them?"

"Someone just said there's really a fire this time."

"A fire? Where's the smoke? There's no smoke."

"Maybe some poison gas got loose from the science wing."

"You're an idiot."

Ten minutes went by, fifteen with no word and the teachers trying to keep the kids quiet. A few sat in their cars; motors running for heat but most just stood, shivering. At eighteen minutes the fire engine and 'special services' truck from the nearby army base rolled in, uniformed men running into the school through three different entrances.

Another ten minutes went by, twenty. Kids started complaining about the cold, especially the girls in short skirts with legs turning blue and students dressed, like Dick, for summer in thin tees and shorts. Someone found a Frisbee and was playing a game of catch to keep warm.

"Dick, aren't you cold, man?"

"…I'm okay, I guess I'm used to it."

"That's the bomb squad, you think someone really planted a bomb?"

Dick, who had the cold weather training of Robin's costume, snorted. "More likely someone doesn't want to take a test." Some kid hadn't studied; maybe someone wanted to cut last period. There wasn't any bomb.

The various professionals, firemen, police, bomb specialists, went in and out of the school. Bomb sniffing dogs were unloaded from a van. This was going to take a while.

Finally, more than an hour after they were evacuated from the building the word was passed that they could just go home. It was almost the end of the day so all they'd missed from this were the last two periods. No one was allowed inside to get any books or belongings. Homework for the next day would be due the day after.

"Man, that's a new one."

"I bet they don't find anything. I bet they don't."

Dick found Alfred parked, waiting in the Bentley along the road and opened the car door to be greeted by, "Exciting day, I take it."

Glad for the warmth Dick shrugged as Alfred headed the car home. "Not really."

It wasn't until the next morning in homeroom that the word spread through the school. No bomb had been found, no fire and not even any drugs. The searchers did, however, find a freshly killed body stuffed into one of the dumpsters behind the building.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Under Control…**

**Part Two**

"So do we know who the victim is, any ideas?"

Dick paused but didn't stop eating, "Amy Stanford, a freshman at Brixton, family just moved to the area from San Francisco a few months ago. I don't remember her."

Bruce's attention was on the current issue of Forbes where he was this month's cover subject. "Only child?"

"No, two younger brothers who go to public school."

"Master Richard, swallow before you speak, please, semi-masticated food is unseemly when on view."

"You don't remember her?" Bruce's attitude was that 'of course he should know her and every other student who had ever passed through Brixton's halls'.

"Sorry, Alf. I don't remember her because I didn't have any classes with her, we didn't have any friends in common and she was a year behind me. Besides, no one knows who she was, she was one of those locker melters."

Bruce glanced over. "Excuse me?"

"You know the kind; they melt into the lockers, no one knows them, they never speak, have no friends, shy or something. They don't make an impression on anyone."

"So why would anyone want to kill someone like that? And do we know if she was sexually abused?"

"According to the police reports she was raped and was likely killed either at or near the scene, her body temperature indicated that she'd been dead less than half an hour when she was found. They're running DNA analysis on skin found under her fingernails and semen samples."

"I heard that the cause of death was strangulation."

Dick swallowed half his glass of milk in one swallow. "'Wasn't strangulation; no marks on her neck. Cause of death is unknown so far, or that's what they're saying."

"Suspects?"

"None so far and school has a delayed opening tomorrow so they can get the school psychologists in place in case anyone's too upset to deal. I don't have to go in 'till ten."

"All right, it looks like we have our work for the evening laid out for us. 'Ready in an hour?"

Dick started on the homemade ice cream Alfred had just placed in front of him, nodding around a mouthful.

Two hours later Batman and Robin had finished their preliminary recon of the school finding a storage shed used by the maintenance staff to store gardening equipment, snow shovels and ice-melt. The girl's underwear was on the floor along with some blood. There was little sign of a struggle, easily explained by a chloroform soaked rag, the smell obvious to anyone familiar with it. "It looks like she was dragged in here and tried to fight but was overcome."

"She wasn't too big, five feet even and ninety-five pounds, it wouldn't take too much." Batman looked around the area. This was the back of the campus, lined by trees that shielded the nearby houses. "'Much traffic back here?"

Robin nodded. "This is a shortcut from the science wing over to English, a lot of kids take it to save trying to save time during class changes."

"Is there a fence in those trees?"

"No, just the hedge and there are gaps, someone could get through pretty easily." Robin pointed out the most obvious opening. "Kids use it to cut school, too. No one pays much attention."

"The padlock for the door is broken."

"I saw, looks like a crowbar or something. BPD took prints and pictures and the autopsy should be done in the morning. Was there anything else you wanted to see here?"

Batman shook his head. A few minutes later, back in the Batmobile; "Dick, there's something about this that's bothering me."

Robin was looking out the window, watching the street lights and houses go by, relaxed and at ease. "Hmm?"

"A student in your school was murdered while you and all of your friends were attending class, in broad daylight."

"And…?"

"You seem remarkably unconcerned."

"Robin turned his head, confused. "It's not like I knew her or anything. I mean I'm sorry she was killed and all but it's just another case. It's not like we haven't worked things like this before, right?"

"Well yes, but…"

"But what? You know the rules; 'don't get personally involved, don't get emotional'. Sure it's sad and tragic and all, but our job is to solve the case so the bad guy gets locked up or gets help and this doesn't happen again. That's why we're here."

"Of course, but…"

"Let it go, okay? So, what do we know so far? She was raped, she was murdered, possibly through chloroform and she was thrown in a dumpster when the cops were probably already on the scene, which is strange. They could have just left her in the shed."

"True, why take the chance unless someone was coming or…"

"No, makes no sense, Bruce. And who called in the bomb scare? What was that about? Distraction?"

"Likely, yes."

"And it probably wasn't the janitor since the door was forced. Okay, so we don't know all that much."

"Tomorrow we'll see where we are, find out more from the police and take it from there."

"'Sounds good."

The next day Dick went to school after sleeping in an hour, pushing his morning workout up to seven AM instead of the usual five-thirty. Brixton Academy was in official mourning, the flag at half-mast and two police cars parked in front of the main gate. Both students and staff were being questioned and a full complement of guidance counselors were on hand to talk to anyone who felt the need.

"Hey, dude—weird stuff, huh?"

Dick nodded without stopping on his way to homeroom. The day was truncated, class periods compressed to thirty minutes from the usual forty-five so they'd be out at the usual time. He sat in his normal seat, the teacher taking roll, though a few more kids than expected were absent. Okay, maybe that wasn't unexpected.

The intercom buzzed, the principal's voice came through without preamble, asking everyone to proceed directly to the auditorium for a special assembly.

That was strange, but maybe not, under the circumstances. The kids did as asked.

Seated, quiet and expectant, they listened as the principal stood at the podium, wearing a black dress.

"_Everyone is shocked and deeply saddened by yesterday's terrible events and Amy's loss will stay with us. I want you all to know that the Brixton Police are working to find the person or people responsible and will do everything in their power to bring this horrible crime to a just conclusion. Any one who would like is free to talk with any one of our counselors any time during the week or to make an appointment for any time you feel the need to speak with someone._

"_Classes have been suspended for the day, teachers and other faculty will be leading discussions about what's happened. Also, the library will be open in case anyone would rather not participate. A list of where each discussion and its subject will be held has been posted in every classroom as well as on the screen behind me. _

"_In addition, I'm sure that most of you have noticed that the police cruisers parked here. The police are here working and will be speaking to several people, though I want to stress that at this point there are no suspects. Please cooperate with them and don't do anything to hinder the investigation. In addition, if anyone has any information, a hot line has been set up with all calls being confidential._

_"If anyone would like, they may stop in at the office where we've set up a condolence book which will be given to Amy's family and we're accepting donations to be sent to Gotham Ballet Theater in Amy's name. Her parents have told me that she had just been accepted into their training program two weeks ago."_

Several hands were raised and ignored. _"I'm not taking any questions, the faculty have all been appraised of what's known and you may ask them about what's going on. Now please, I'm also asking that none of you talk to the media if you can avoid it and to not spread any rumors; please bear in mind that a young lady has been murdered and her family is in mourning. Now, if you would, please o to your first classroom."_

The student body did what they were old; reading about the various programs that had been designed for them to cope with the tragedy and making decisions as to which they'd attend. A few kids opted to spend the day in the library, disappointed when they learned that they could read, work quietly on a computer and little else. Dick almost automatically went to the room where the local cops would explain what they were doing to solve the case and how the students could try to avoid the same fate as fourteen year old Amy.

Dick sized up Sergeant Foley quickly. He'd met him once or twice in passing, usually when he was acting as part of security for one of Bruce's things at the Manor and he was generally unimpressed. The man was youngish, maybe thirty, had attended college but flunked out and had only gotten his job through his father's intervention. He wasn't completely stupid but he wasn't going to win any prizes either.

It was an informal Q&A, everyone sitting loosely in the school desks and open talk back and forth. Dick mostly listened.

"Do you have anyone who's a suspect yet?"

"We're looking at several person's of interest, yes, but I really can't say who right now."

"How come this girl was targeted? I didn't even know who she was—I know that sounds bad, but I didn't."

"That's something we're investigating."

"Have there been any other murders like this around Brixton or is this the first?"

"This is the first murder in Brixton in seven years."

"Well, yeah, but we're only like ten minutes from Gotham, they have lots of murders."

"We're aware of that."

"So are you talking to the other police departments nearby?"

"We maintain good relations with all the other departments."

And on it went, the man said nothing, clearly knew nothing until Dick couldn't stand it. "Have you considered calling in outside help? You said yourself that Brixton hadn't dealt with a murder in sever years, maybe a department with more experience would have some ideas or insights."

"We believe that we have things under control."

"Wasn't there a similar murder in Akhram Acres a month or so ago? That's less than three miles from here, have you talked to the police over there?"

"We will if we suspect a link."

Dick gave up; the guy was an idiot. He listened but let his mind run for the rest of the day. He was anxious to see the DNA results and to really get a look at Akhram Acre's files on their case. Murders weren't all that common in the rich suburbs; rape, drug use, domestic violence, sure, but murder was usually a bit too extreme.

Clearly someone had made an exception to the general rule, the question was who and why Amy? Was she specifically targeted or was she just in the wrong place at the wrong time? He finally gave up on the 'programs', they were useless, or at least they were useless to him.

He took his laptop to the library and began looking through the press clippings about both of the murders, trying to see what he could see. By two-thirty he was thinking that there was a definite connection, though he was having trouble putting his finger on it and would have to wait till he got home to check the police files.

The approaching sirens made him look out the window to see three Brixton police cars pulling up fast, cops getting out and an ambulance rounding the corner. Everyone in the room, everyone on that side of the building was tense, watching.

Over the intercom came; "Teachers please keep your students in your classrooms. Please stay out of the halls. The authorities have everything under control. Please stay calm."

Cell phones went off at every desk, students listening, trying to find out what was going on. Finally a senior, his face white, answered everyone's question; "They just found Dave Metcalf in the cafeteria kitchen. He's dead."

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**Part Three**

The immediate reaction to Dave's death announcement was chaos. Some girl on the other side of the room screamed then began loudly crying, several kids tried to rush the door to escape and a few simply sat, stunned. The librarian grabbed several sheets of paper from the printer, taping them over the door windows as she turned the deadbolt lock.

Dick Grayson slipped out his cell phone and called Bruce—or rather Robin called Batman, filling him in on what had just happened. "I just heard there's been another killing, I'll see what I can find out; it could be a rumor but more police are here and an ambulance just drove up. I'll call you as soon as I learn more."

But the school, of course, was on lock down and unless he was willing to make the change to Robin—in broad daylight and out himself as a student at Brixton, he had to sit and wait just like every other student. It was frustrating, but it was either sit on his hands or reveal his identity. For now, at least.

So he waited, doing what little he could to find out details. According to the rumors flying through texting, tweeting and phones, Dave was found in the walk-in refrigerator, his shirt torn opened. The room was supposed to a mess, boxes and cans of food thrown around and probably caused by Dave's fighting for his life.

Police were walking the hallways and the K-9 unit back again looking for—well, who knew what they were looking? Weapons? Drugs? A stray killer looking for the bathroom?

Meanwhile, as twenty, thirty and finally forty-five minutes went by area outside the main gate became jammed with distraught parents tried to get their children. News vans blocked the residential street and reporters tried to interview and get statements from anyone they could. This was going out live, someone found and turned on a TV up by the librarian's desk and the hostages crowded around.

"_A student's death is shaking this quiet, up-scale community for the second time in two days as…"_

"_Panicked parents are converging on Brixton Academy this afternoon as we wait information…"_

"_No word from authorities regarding rumors of another young person's murder this afternoon…"_

There was a knock on the library door, startling and frightening several of the students locked inside. The librarian lifted a corner of the paper, looked through the small, wire-reinforced window and slipped the lock open. A Brixton Officer came in, obviously shaken but trying for authoritative.

"The halls have been checked and are clear so I'm going to lead you outside; stay with me, move quickly and quietly. When we get to the main door walk straight out and keep going. Go home but don't travel alone—no one travels alone, do you understand me? If you don't think anyone will be at your home or if you have to walk by yourself, either go to a friend's house or stay with the crowd until we get buses here to transport anyone who needs it to the station. We have a safe room set up for you to wait there until someone you know can get you. I don't care if you live half a block from the school—no one goes home unescorted or to an empty house. Okay, let's go."

They did as they were told, joining other groups of students also being led out under escort. The students, all young teenagers, were scared, a number of them crying and larger number in shock with several close to panic.

Outside, Dick looked back at the school, the threat wasn't the same as, say Columbine where there were random shootings. The victims were either found or taken to a secluded area, overpowered and killed. This wasn't the work of an out of control shooter. This was the result of someone who had planned out what they were going to do in advance, had made plans and preparations, someone who was familiar with the layout of the building.

A student? A disgruntled employee?

He didn't know—yet. Dick saw the Bentley about a hundred yards down the line of parked cars, Alfred looking anxious as he scanned the kids then suddenly relieved when he caught sight of 'the young Master'. Pushing his way past a reporter and camera crew, ignoring their questions, 'Were you terrified? Did you know either of the victims?', he took hold of Dick's arm, pulling him in the direction of the car.

The drive was silent; Alfred letting Dick set the tone of the ride. Finally, the car in the garage and the overhead door closed behind them, Dick looked over, both still sitting in the front seat, the engine off. He noticed how unusual it was for Alfred to allow one of 'the family' to not use the front door as was proper, proof of how upset the old man was.

"I'm more sorry than I can say, truly, I am."

"The kid who was killed today? Dave? I knew him, he changed next to me in gym, he was a good guy." Dick's hand was around the door handle tight enough to turn his knuckles white. "It's an inside job, it has to be. I mean it has to be someone who knows about the school, knows the layout, knows how the place works; this isn't random. I think Dave and Amy were targeted."

"Then you know what you have to do."

He hesitated for the briefest moment. "I know, I'll see what I can find on my own until he gets home."

"I spoke with Master Bruce just before I left to get you just now, he said that the DNA has been analyzed—the same person who killed Miss Stanford is also responsible for the murder in Akhram Acres last week."

Serial killer, that was no surprise and it was hardly their first. Batman and Robin had to catch whoever was doing this and they had to do it before there was another death.

Before dinner they received an automated phone can from the school; _"Good evening, this is Principal Gatling. We are all aware of the terrible events at Brixton Academy over the last two days, because of this the Board has decided to suspend all classes, clubs, meetings and the athletic schedule until Monday, the seventeenth. You will be contacted should there be any changes or additions to this decision. Our hearts and prayers go out to Amy Stanford and David Metcalf's families and friends, we grieve with them and I know you all join me in sharing with them our deepest sympathy and condolences. I'm sure you all know that everything possible is being done to bring the person or persons responsible for these heinous acts to justice. Thank you and be safe."_

Bruce took the practical view of this, "So, more time to crack this case."

Dick shook his head. "No, this guy is targeting the school, now he'll either lay low until we're back in session or find another school to hit; this isn't over and I don't think he'll take a break."

Dick went straight down to the cave, working the computer, learning what he could, hacking into Brixton's police computers when he heard footsteps, Bruce was home. He leaned over Dick's shoulder, looking at the monitor and speaking. "By the way, did you hear that the DNA results are in? It was the same person at Brixton and at AA."

"I heard, we know it's the same guy."

"But the tests were inclusive beyond that."

"What?"

"'Lab screwed up; no blood typing, no gender."

"So redo the testing."

Bruce shook his head. "'Can't, not enough material to try again."

Dick exhaled in exasperation. "…Incredible. I hope the cops are watching the neighboring schools now since Brix is shut down. I know what I said yesterday, but this is almost starting to feel personal; this guy is in my space now."

Bruce held up his hand. "I know this is hitting close to home but you were right yesterday; don't let your emotions get in your way. Of course you want to solve this, but don't get in your own way."

Dick nodded. "I know, I won't. Don't worry about it, I'm good." Privately he thought that this was a little like when he found Donna's birth mother for her. That was personal and so was this. A couple of weeks ago he'd gone over to Dave's house with some of the guys from school, it hadn't been anything major, just hanging and pizza but they liked one another. If things were different, maybe they'd have been real friends.

This was Thursday; they had tomorrow and the weekend before school was back in session, at least probably.

Three and a half days to solve this and make an arrest.

It was winter, getting dark early and so Batman and Robin were out and about by seven that evening. They searched the Brixton Academy area with a fine tooth comb, using scans for blood, found trace amounts of chloroform again (something the police seemed to somehow have missed completely) in and around the kitchen and walk-in fridge. The searched for ore traces of the killer's DNA, finding some stray hairs which proved to match the Akhram Acres DNA.

Then, reading those results down in the cave, Robin called over to Batman on the other computer. "It's a woman."

"Excuse me?"

"According to this, the killer's a woman. That would help explain why she used the chloroform—it would knock out the victims fast; they wouldn't know what hit them."

"'Makes sense. And since the school was in lock down when Dave was killed, I think you may also be right about it being someone in the school, or at least someone who wouldn't raise any suspicions. Good work, Dick."

"So, a teacher? A cop there to protect the students?"

Dick nodded. "Maybe. Let's see who was there yesterday, pull up the faculty/staff list for Brixton. I'll see if there are any women on the local force then see if anyone seems to have any motives or reason to go down this road."

***

The next day, Friday, other schools in the area the ones within a fifteen miles radius had all decided to take the situation seriously. The various local police departments had stationed officers at all the local school, high, middle and elementary schools in case the murderer decided to vary his victim's age. The absentee rate was twice the norm.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

**Part Four**

The autopsy came back; Dave had died the same was Amy did, an overdose of chloroform. Neither Batman and Robin nor the police were surprised.

"Yeah, Bruce, question. The DNA came back with the killer being a woman, right? Amy was raped; 'care to explain?"

"Off hand I'd say that we're looking for more than one killer."

"Two separate criminals or partners working together? Or a semi-copycat?"

"That's one of the things we need to answer."

"I thought that we were zeroing in on this."

"We're zeroing in on part of it. Pieces of a puzzle, Dick—you know that's what solving crimes are. You find the pieces and see how they fit."

"Uh-huh, except that you get pieces from about twenty different puzzles and half the pieces are missing and you don't know what piece belongs with what crime."

Bruce actually smiled, well almost. "That's what makes it fun."

"Oh, yeah, right. I forgot." God, it was good to laugh with the Bat.

Robin ran a check with a number of chemical and scientific supply companies to see if any chloroform had been shipped to the Gotham area in the last couple of months. There were dozens of responses to that one; schools, pharmaceutical companies, labs, companies that made freon for refrigerators or air conditioners, a company that made dye…too many. He reversed his search and hacked school records to see if any chloroform had specifically been delivered to Brixton Academy. Yes, the mechanics teacher had ordered some, so had the chemistry teacher and both would have legitimate reasons for class experiments.

Okay.

"It's a start, the stuff was in the building. Now I've got to find out if any was missing which can't be accounted for." The easiest way was to just go to the sources.

"Excuse me, Mr. Reynolds, I hope I'm not interrupting?" The man was in his living room watching the Knicks vs somebody on the 52 inch plasma.

"…Robin? How did you get in here?" He was suddenly a bit pale.

"Sorry to startle you. Yes I am, thank you, but you really should make sure that you remember to lock your back door. Anyway, I was wondering if you could tell me how much chloroform you ordered for Brixton Academy and if you'd happen to know how much has been used so far. If it's not too much trouble."

The man stared for a second then kicked his brain back into gear. "Yeah, sure, I haven't used any. I was going to have the AP chem class do a couple of experiments but ended up changing the syllabus."

"How much did you order?"

"A liter. It should be in the storage room in the back of the classroom."

"Who has a key to that?"

"Me, the maintainance people and there's a copy in the office; they have a copy of every key used in the building along with a master key which should open just about everything."

"Does anyone have a master key?"

"The janitors, I guess that the principal might, maybe the superintendent. I don't really know."

"Would anyone else have a reason to use it or know it's there?"

Reynolds thought for a moment. "Whoever signed it in when it was shipped would know it's there; I unpacked it and anyone who saw the invoice would know. I guess whoever pays the bills. And there aren't too many home uses for the stuff. If someone took some, then they had a specific use for it. And it's not that expensive; you can get it over the Internet pretty cheaply; any scientific supply house would carry it, no questions asked."

"Do you ever share your supplies with the other teachers? If one of the other science teachers needed chloroform would you use the same bottle or share this one?"

"Well, that depends. Usually we all just order whatever we need, within reason. I didn't talk to anyone about this though, so this would have just been for use in my own classes."

"Okay. Who approves your class syllabus?"

"Uh, the head of the department and sometimes the principal takes a look but you can't think they'd do anything…?"

"I don't think anything yet but thanks for talking to me. 'Enjoy the game." And he was gone, leaving the man to a sleepless night.

Robin also stopped in at James Smith's, the Mechanical Engineering teacher's place and got basically the same answers and a lot more attitude ("Shouldn't you be home in bed at this hour?"); he'd also ordered a liter of chloroform for use in plexiglass work but hadn't gotten to that section yet and so it should still be sitting there unopened.

The weird thing was that he was in both men's classes and hadn't ever considered that either of them could be capable of killing anyone. In fact he didn't seriously consider them suspects, but then he'd been wrong before and so wasn't about to rule anyone out at this point. Not yet, anyway.

Next, around one in the morning, he went over to the school and let himself in through the skylight in the teacher's lounge so he could check the level in the supposedly unused bottle of chloroform in the Chem lab. There it was, sitting on the bottom shelf, still in it's original shipping case, seals intact. Next door in the Mech E lab he searched where Smith had told him he'd put the supplies and found the supposedly unused bottle. The bottle was almost a quarter empty. He dusted the bottle, the door and the locks for fingerprints, put everything back where he found it.

He was looking for a woman who would have access to the area, who would have a key or know someone who had one...the list was longer than he liked.

Obviously anyone in the office could get a key; there was an often unlocked key board hanging on the wall in the main office. Someone could even have made a copy of the storage closet locks or the master. And it might not be an adult, he couldn't rule out a student with some kind of grudge. There were almost four hundred students, half of them female. The faculty and staff had around fifty people, a lot of them women.

Okay. Think.

First things first. He went back to the cave, maybe he could find a match with some of the prints he'd just lifted.

***

On Monday the students arrived back at Brix, apprehensive, frightened and making bad jokes which were not well received. They wanted answers and there were few answers to be had. Flowers were placed both at the main gate and where the two students were found. The cafeteria's kitchen was closed and the school ordered personal pizzas for everyone.

It was going to be another long day.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

**Part Five**

There was another assembly to start the day, this one telling everyone that they should know that the police were doing everything possible and were following several important leads. In addition, there was a strong rumor that Batman and Robin had taken an interest in the case and so an arrest could be expected soon.

"In the meantime, we expect you all to use caution, both here at school and around town. Don't travel alone, whether it to the ladies or men's room or if you're going out for a pizza. Make sure someone knows where you're going, when you expect to arrive and when you're going to leave. Keep your cell phones on you and charged. Keep your eyes opened and trust your instinct. If you have a bad feeling, get out of the situation immediately or yell for help. I'm sure that you've all seen the police walking the halls; they're here for our protection, work with them and do as they say.

"Now, the best we can all do is go on with our work. The criminal will be caught and this will all end soon."

The secretary whispered in Principal Gatling's ear. "Oh yes, of course. Anyone who is planning on going to David's service this morning may sign out in the office. The condolence books for both David and Amy are in the library and will be there for another day before we deliver them to their families. All right, please go on to your second period classes."

The students got up quietly and moved with almost no talking as they made their way to their respective classrooms.

"This is creepy, Dick. Seriously. Two kids were murdered here and Gatling's going on like it's just a minor fly in her ointment."

"Cut her some slack, John, she's just trying to get everyone's mind on something else." Privately he agreed with Anthony.

"Yeah, like anyone is thinking about algebra today. 'You going to the funeral?"

"I thought I would, you want a ride? Alfred's coming by around 10:30."

"Sure, thanks, sounds good. 'I'll meet you out front then. 'Later."

At 10:15 Dick went to the office to sign out, there was line of maybe twenty kids, all somber, all dressed like they were going to church, which they were. Finished, he went out to sit on the front steps, waiting for John and Alfred, just looking around and wondering if maybe this would be a good case for the Titans to come in on.

There were other kids milling around, hanging and chatting. A few girls seemed close to tears, both for Dave and Amy and out of fear for themselves.

"You seem pretty calm about this, Grayson; you know something we don't?"

"Why would I know anything, Bri?"

"Because Bruce has the cops and everyone else in Gotham in his hip pocket. Isn't he like best buds with the police commissionor or something?"

Jerk. "Having dinner with someone doesn't mean that he knows anything more than anyone else. Besides, this isn't a Gotham case, it's Brixton."

"And the Acres, too—they had the same kind of murder a few weeks ago, remember? I heard the two police departments are working together because they think it's all the same guy."

A few more kids wandered over, others got into cars as they arrived and pulled away. "I bet Batman and Robin are going to get involved—they do it'll be solved in like ten minutes."

Dick smiled to himself, that would be nice but it wasn't quite that easy. "Maybe they will."

"Yeah, well you guys aren't going to believe what I just heard; I heard Reynolds and Smith talking after the assembly. They were standing in the back, just talking kind of quietly between themselves but I heard them and it sounded to me like Robin went to talk to both of them last night. It sounded like they thought they were being investigated because they both have chloroform in their classrooms and some of it's missing."

"Holy crap."

"Yeah."

"Reynolds and Smith? I can't believe they'd kill anyone."

"Me neither but it sounds like Robin doesn't agree."

"Oh, man..."

That was enough for Dick. "But even if that's true, even if Robin did go talk to them, maybe he was just trying to get some information about whether or not they'd used any of the chloroform—you know, to explain why it was there and why some was used. Besides, a lot of people have access to the classrooms, a lot of people could have taken it, if that's where it came from."

"God, Dick, you're such a boyscout."

"I'm just saying that spreading rumors isn't a great idea."

"Yeah, well, it isn't spreading rumors if it's true."

"It's rumors until it's proven true." He stood up, " My ride's here, you coming, John?"

The two boys talked on the shirt ride to the church, which continued when they were seated inside, waiting for the service to begin. The place was packed with folding chairs set up in the back and along the side. Dave was a popular guy and active in schools clubs and sports. Family members in the front and a number of the girls from Brixton were crying.

'Whoever did this should fucking burn in hell."

"They'll be caught, John. It may take a little while but they will be."

"What makes you an expert? You ever deal with murder before?"

Dick took a beat while he also took a breath. "As a matter of fact..."

John looked sideways at Dick, suddenly realizing what he'd just said. "Oh, shit, man, I'm sorry. I'm _really_ sorry. I didn't mean anything; seriously—God, I'm _sorry_."

"It's okay, it happens. Don't worry about it; really. Look, the guy who killed my parents was caught, this guy will be, too."

* * *

After the service most of the attendees went to a local restaurant for a reception and lunch. The food was good and plentiful and likely cost a fortune, knowing the restaurant. It was subdued, Dave's parents trying to put on a brave face; this was serious WASP country where a stiff upper lip was assumed, no matter what was going on. Dick stood the scene for about an hour then hitched a ride back to school with a couple of seniors.

There were three extra police cars in the parking lot and a lot of kids standing around outside, despite the still cold weather. An ambulance pulled up, light flashing but without the siren. The EMT's pulled a stretcher and some equipment from the back and went inside at a run.

"What's going on?" Dick knew the signs—anyone with a brain could read these signs.

"One of the teachers, someone says it's Mr. Smith."

Smith? The one who's classroom bottle of chloroform was down a couple of inches?

There were only two realistic explanations; either he surprised and interrupted the unknown woman they were looking for in the midst of something and she killed him to cover any possible chance of him going to the authorities or he was tired of being her partner, was going to turn her in and was stopped before he could act.

"Is he dead?"

No one knew.

Dick went into the woods by the parking lot (looking to make sure he wasn't spotted) and exited the trees as Robin. No one had noticed, their attention was all on the ambulance and the latest tragedy. He went straight up to the nearest officer. "Mind if I go inside and look around?"

"We'd be obliged; you find anything, we'd be grateful. In the main door and turn left, room 107."

The Mech E room.

He was on the floor, obviously DOA. The still damp chloroform soaked rag on the floor nearby. "Do you have a dusting kit? I'd like to check the bottle."

"Sure thing, Robin, right here and thanks for coming so fast—you want to pull the prints yourself?"

"If you don't mind. How long ago and who called it in?"

The Sergeant glanced at his watch. "Twenty-five minutes ago, he was dead when we got here. I'm not sure who made the call, the station will have that."

Robin nodded and took out his cell phone and dialed Alfred. "Hi, it's me. I'm at Brixton Academy, there's been another murder and I'm looking around...I'll see you later, okay?"

"Calling home, kid? That's funny, Robin having to check in."

"Leave the kid alone, Joe—even Robin's got parents, right? So, any ideas about this?"

"Did the victim have a key ring on him or did you find the key to this?" No sign of the cabinet being forced so either Smith opened it himself or surprised whoever did.

"Yeah, there was a keyring under the body. 'Right here."

"I'll know more in a little while, thanks, guys."

He left the school through the back entrance, near the dumpsters where Amy was found a couple of days ago though there wasn't anyone here now. He changed back to his civilian clothes unseen and met Alfred by the front gate; not surprisingly, school was cancelled early again today.

An hour later he knew who the likely murderer was. He just didn't know why.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

**Part Six**

"The fingerprints confirm it. I ran the new ones against the ones I picked up a day or so ago and then checked them against the security cards for the school. It's her."

Bruce shook his head. "It's circumstantial, she may have had legitimate reasons to be in there."

"'Doubt it. I'll tie her to it."

"Motive?"

Robin hesitated. "'Don't know that yet."

"Then find one."

* * *

That evening he went over to the woman's apartment, slipped inside and looked around. No one was there and he knew to work fast and quiet before she got home or someone noticed him—though that was a long shot.

He silently went through her desk, opened the home safe in her bedroom closet and tried to get into the PC on her desk.

The desk had the usual pile of bills and receipts with a couple of personal snail mail letters on top and a few birthday cards dated last week. The cards were mostly the joking kind women send to one another, heavy on sexual innuendo. The letters were from her mother, asking her how she was doing, when was she going to meet someone and give her grandchildren and then complaining about her own health and begging for a visit. The bills, aside from the utilities and rent were largely from high end department stores in one of the nearby suburban malls; Saks, Neiman's, Bloomingdales and a few designer boutiques; Chanel, Jimmy Choo and Diane Von Furstenburg.

The totals were high, even for someone who made over a hundred thousand a year plus full and generous benefits. Bruce could afford to spend like this and so could a number of the people who lived in town but unless she had some other funds stashed somewhere, she was spending herself into a big hole.

So...money.

But the motive couldn't be money; there'd been no ransom notes, no extortion attempt, no blackmail letters or calls.

And the other obvious motive—love gone bad or jealousy didn't seem to fit either. The people killed were almost all kids. The only exception was Mr. Smith, a forty-something high school teacher, single and about as exciting as the proverbial mud fence. He belonged to a bowling league, f'God'ssake. Besides, it looked like he's probably been killed because he'd surprised the person stealing the chloroform; that was what made the most sense, anyway.

So the usual idea of 'for love or money' didn't fit.

Okay, another reason for murder?

Maybe she was simply psychotic, a thrill killer.

Maybe.

The killings were random enough, or so it seemed now. He'd checked and couldn't find any connections between the kids and this woman—no family connections, no illicit affairs that he could uncover, no arguments, no unpleasantness; nothing. Two male high school juniors who had no history of anything at all untoward with an authority figure. A shy and introverted freshman girl. An inoffensive teacher, single and known to be a quiet stay at home kind of guy.

Dick though hard. "Okay, Smith may have been in the wrong place at the wrong time to get killed today—in fact that's where what probably happened. He just got unlucky, even more so than the other victims."

So she killed people because...? He still didn't know.

Sitting on her bed was a laptop, plugged in and left opened. He hit the enter key and the screen came to life, she hadn't turned it off and it was just in 'sleep' mode. Holy crap—he was in. This was like a free Christmas present.

He made a fast scan of the files she had in 'My Documents' and double clicked on 'notes to self'. No good, it was a file of diet tips.

He clicked on 'my life'. Nothing, just a list of birthday dates for friends and family with ideas about gifts.

Next he tried 'things to do'. This was a shopping wish list with items from Yves St Laurent prominantly on the list and illustrated with pictures that looked like they were from Vogue or maybe Harper's. High end stuff.

'Money matters' was a list of bills she'd paid, check numbers and charitable contributions—there weren't too many of those and the few listed were for ten, fifteen and twenty dollars.

Christ, didn't this woman do anything besides shop and think about food?

'Ideas'.

He looked, did a mental double-take and looked again.

Bulls-eye.

He'd found it, the smoking gun, the link which tied her to the crimes. It was practically a step by step of how she did it and it had just fallen in his lap—he used to dream about cases solving themselves and here it was.

The case was laid out on a silver platter. Or so it looked. Never assume, never—that was the road to hell and embarrassment and criminals walking free.

It started without preamble; _"I hate it here, hate the students, the staff and the idiot teachers who think they've landed on easy street because they have jobs at this 'it's shit don't stink' private school in one of the richest towns in the country._

_Alan Drake lives around the corner, Bruce Wayne is just up the street and his snotty adopted kid is enrolled here. They're like three year olds fighting over a toy—throwing money at a group of monster brats who wouldn't know how to earn a paycheck if their lives depended on it, not that they ever will. Trust funds, that's all they have to know about, that and how to circumnavigate the trustees._

_Lots of snotty kids are here. The parking lot—the __student__parking lot is thick with BMW's, Saabs, Porsche's, Jags and the odd Bentley dropping junior off in the morning. All of them gifts, naturally. We can't have the kiddies getting their hands dirty working for something, of course. God forbid they should even wield a sponge to wash them when they get dirty—that's what the hired help are for._

_The clothes they wear, the jewelry I see on fifteen year olds; ridiculous The talk in the hallways about Christmas was enough to turn my stomach—Aspen, Vail, St. Moritz, St Lucia, St. Barts and my favorite—the kid who was complaining about a month visiting God knew who in Australia so he could learn how to scuba dive on the Barrier reef, with a stop over in Tokyo to see the sights and hit the Ginza._

_Horrible, morally bankrupt parasites._

_And they're all the same. Every single one of them._

_Oh sure, they're sweet as pie to your face but I've heard them talking. The parents are as bad as the students—worse, if you want to know the truth. 'So glad you're here, I love the changes you've been implimenting. Please stop by for dinner this week...' _

_Hypocrites._

_I hate them._

_I hate them._

_I hate all of them._

_Yesterday—some idiot parents came in wondering why their darling didn't get early acceptance to Harvard. You want to know why, you jackasses? Because your kid is a arrogant loser who's stoned 24/7 and whose grades wouldn't get him into Community College if you bribed them._

_Bruce Wayne called last week—moron. 'Wanted to know 'if the school could use a new science wing' because he'd looked around during back to school night and he thought that the equipment was outdated._

_Conceited moron. HE thought that the place needs an update? Sure, he's right but I'll be damned if I'm going to let that anyone dictate to me what the shit-pile needs._

_I turned him down—politely and with a smile because you always have to smile at the golden geese. Wayne was too stupid to see through me and then I got read the riot act because some board member heard about it. Wayne wins—he gets to have his name in the paper and have the usual worthies fawn over how fabulous he is. He end-ran me—he'd a dope but he knows how to twist arms. Shithead._

_He wants to do some help? Build a damn hospital in Kenya or Bludhaven someplace. I hate him the most, I think—he represents everything I loath about this place...money, arrogance and stupidity wrapped up together. And he's worried that his toy won't have state of the at test tubes? Please—like that kid will ever have to lift a finger. _

_Sometimes I walk down one of the halls and think about what the place would look like if a bomb went off, blood and gore as prom decorations—a new theme! Instead of Enchantment Under the Sea, how about Carrie?_

_Anthrax in the A/C unit?_

_Bodies in the dumpsters? A new trend in dumpster diving—be the first!_

_I can't stand this, I really can't. I can't pretend that this is okay. It isn't. Those kids—the teachers who encourage them in thinking how fabulous they are, how nothing can touch them, how nothing will ever go wrong, how they can have anything they want and if they don't get it then Daddy will buy it anyway._

_They need to learn that even the fabled Brixton has problems and that bad things can happen here, too._

_Jim will help me. He hates this place as much as I do._

_And he will do anything for me._

_And he has access to things that might work for my idea._

_God, it's so easy; sleep with a man, a man like Jimmy who couldn't get areal woman without pulling out his checkbook and he'll follow you like a damn puppy._

Robin printed off a copy, knowing that it was invasion of her privacy and proved his breaking and entering but he also knew that the local police would issue a warrant on his say-so and that they would be searching the apartment within hours.

He finished and was headed out through the back bushes, just rounding the side of the opened garage when, engrossed in what he was doing, he was a shade too slow reacting to the arm around his throat and the piece of damp cloth against his nose and mouth

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

**Part Seven**

**Conclusion**

He woke up around half an hour later, surprised that he was able to wake up. In fact, the more he shook off the fog in his brain and could focus on the pain, he was increasingly more amazed that he wasn't dead. He was also incredibly nauseous and he had the worst headache in his life.

The EMT had an oxygen mask on his face and a blood pressure cuff on his arm. He was laying on the gurney, covered by a blanket and there were cops milling around. He was still in the apartment's parking area, wondering..."How did you know to find me here?"

"'Got a call from Batman, no less, said he was tied up with something but had been trying to get a hold of you and you weren't answering so he checked your location on a GPS. That's how."

Figured. "Do you find the person..." He stopped, tore the mask off and leaned over just fast enough to not barf on himself. Several times.

The EMT was there, holding him so he wouldn't fall and getting a towel or something to wipe his face and mouth along with a bottle of water to rinse with. "Shi...'Sorry."

"'You done?"

"I think so, for now, anyway, thanks. Did they get the person..."

"Who tried to kill you? No, 'left by the time we got here."

"They used chloroform, didn't they?"

The EMT looked up from his paperwork. "Yeah, how'd you know that?"

"I know what it smells like." He swayed as he sat there.

"Common side-effect; dizziness and a really bad headache. You should be okay in a little while, just keep breathing the oxygen and get that crap out of your lungs."

"Are the cops still here?"

"You kidding, with Robin almost killed? They just called in backup; you wanna talk to them?"

He nodded and when Sergeant Foley came over he said, "I think that the person who did this is Laura Gatling, she's the principal over at Brixton Academy and she lives here in 3-A. I've been investigating her in connection with the Brixton murders." The man was an idiot, but if it was handed to him on a silver platter and tied with a bow, maybe he could do something with it.

From any other fifteen year old he'd have laughed the kid silly and told him to let the grownups do their jobs, but this was a long way from just any kid. "Don, get a couple of men and we'll check her out. Robin, you want to go with them?"

The EMT broke in. "Not right now Officer, he's still recovering. He stands up and he's gonna fall down, I guarantee it; besides the chloroform, he was close to hypothermia. It's twenty-seven degrees out here, boys, let him recover, okay?"

"I'm okay." He started to move his arm to push himself up.

The EMT put a hand on his shoulder. "Stay." He turned to his driver."Advise that we're ready to transport."

"No. I mean I'd rather stay here." Robin tried for polite but firm, but it wasn't flying. Damn. "Sergeant? You might want to get a search warrant, too. She might have a computer or something." No point in broadcasting the fact that he was inside without said warrant. The hero community was already catching flack for playing a little fast and loose with the rules.

"Good idea, thanks, kid."

He started to get up again.

The EMT put an end to that. "Sorry, Robin, standard procedure. You need to be checked out in the ER and they'll decide what to do with you. The effects haven't worn off yet and you may have some allergies or something. Sorry, but this isn't up for debate. Besides, you're a minor, it'd be my job if I let you go now." The gurney was loaded into the back of the ambulance, the doors closed and, with no recourse, they headed out for the ER.

He was in the for ER five hours before being released to Batman who arrived in the Batmobile, causing practically the entire building to empty out to gawk. On top of that, the media was, as usual, monitoring the police and emergency bands and so were staked outside as well, inundating them with flashbulbs and questions as they made their way to the car and away.

"Robin, you're all right? Nothing serious?"

"Batman, are you going to rethink letting Robin work on his own after this?"

"Is the person who blindsided you in custody?"

"Does this have anything to do with the Brixton murders?"

"Have you considered adding a sweatshirt to your costume for winter?"

"'Sorry guys, no comment other than to say I'm fine. Thanks for asking, good night."

***

For once, the drive home wasn't silent.. "Are you sure you're all right? I can call Leslie in."

"No need."

"Did you find anything?"

Leave it to Bruce to take the word of a fifteen year old regarding his health at face value. Robin lifted his head from the back of the seat. He was tired, he had a headache and he was afraid that he was about to throw up again. "Yes, I cracked her laptop—well, actually she left it opened, and she has this journal or stream of consciousness thing that pretty much says why she did it. And her finger prints match the ones I lifted off the bottle of chloroform in the Mech E lab. She also pretty strongly implies that she was having an affair with Mr. Smith to get him to help her, makes a couple of references to 'Jim' and 'Jimmy' doing what she wants. 'Smith's first name was James."

"Aside from the prints it's still circumstantial."

"I don't think it will be that hard to get a confession if it's handed right."

Batman glanced to his right. "Why's that?"

"Because she feels superior to people in Brixton and thinks that all the kids are spoiled and entitled. It's making her angry and that's why she's been killing rich kids. She'll talk to why show she was justified and make sure people understand why she felt compelled to take things into her own hands."

"What things, that the kids who go to Brix come from money?"

"That's part of it, the other part is that she seems to believe that she was being patronized to by the community. In fact,. Your name was mentioned; she was angry because you end-ran her about funding the science renovations. Besides that, she had heavy expenses and I suspect that she was bankrupting herself trying to keep up with some of the conspicuous consumption around here."

"But there weren't any extortion attempts to gain her money that I know of. What did she stand to gain?"

"Revenge."

"So, she'll get a slap on the wrist as criminally insane." Batman hated when that happened, it was too common a story in their careers.

"Not completely, she'll be incarcerated for murder and there will probably be some civil suits. Did I remember to tell you that I also have her prints tied to the dumpster and on the door to the kitchen at school."

"There are reasons that they could be there."

Dick gave him a look. "Yeah, sure; like the principal takes out the garbage and was making herself a sandwich."

Alfred was waiting for them, his concern plain though he'd never admit it beyond how this would put his dusting and vacuuming schedule hopelessly behind. His relief when Dick got out of the car under his own power was obvious. "I trust that all's well?"

"It will be as soon as the police see what's on Gatling's laptop." Dick was already removing his mask and cape, toeing off his pixie boots. "I'm going to take a shower and then hit the sack. 'Later."

When he'd left Alfred handed Bruce the customary turkey sandwich and cup of coffee. "He's still feeling the effects of being ambushed the way he was."

"He's fine, he said so himself." He ignored the exasperation from Alfred by pretending to be engrossed by whatever was on the monitor. "What I don't understand was how she managed to overpower him."

"Perhaps she simply surprised him. Didn't he say that he was just finishing up, was undoubtedly cold and was trying to get away as quickly as possible." He uncovered Dick's uneaten snack and helped himself to the ham and cheese on wheat, hold the mayo.

"And I point out that this is hardly the first time that he's been taken unawares. Dr. Thompkins has expressed concern to me about possible future problems from Parkinson's. I strongly suggest that you concentrate on that particular problem in future training. Sessions."

"Parkinson's? ...I guess he does tend to get hit over the head more than I'd like." Bruce, cowl thrown back, nodded. "'Not a bad idea."

Up in his room Dick stared in the mirror while he waited for the hot water to come up. He hadn't told Bruce about the section in Gatling's laptop he'd deleted, the part about him.

_The Wayne kid—Grayson, that's his name, he's next. As god is my witness, he's next. Wayne needs to learn that he can't control everything, he can't buy everything and money doesn't smooth out everything. 'Bought himself a pretty son to make him look good, make him seem like Saint Bruce, giving a home to a damn waif—screw that._

_This one will be my favorite. Tomorrow, I think._

Bruce would have a fit if he knew he'd been targeted and so would Alfred. There wasn't anything to be gained by having them upset and taking this personally. Nothing at all. And it wasn't like this was the first time it had ever happened, nor would it likely be the last.

It just...was.

His headache, which had been fading, was back with a vengeance. He popped four extra strength Advil's and hoped for the best.

An hour later Batman and Robin were contacted to advise them that Laura Gatling was in custody on suspicion of murder in the cases of Amy Stanford, Dave Metcalf, Steve Blanding (the kid in Akhram Acres) and James Smith. DNA evidence had been collected from the crime scenes and was continuing to be gathered from the victims and now the prime suspect; hopes were high that they would add major weight to the state's case against her.

The next day, soon to be ex-principal Gatling was still in custody without possibility of bail, about to be questioned by the DA, they were just waiting for her lawyer to arrive. Batman and Robin were invited to be there to observe if they wanted.

"Dick, would you like to take a ride over?"

"No, thanks, but it's okay. I'm as sure as I can be that she's guilty and I'll probably have to testify anyway. I'll get the whole story soon enough."

"But you're the one who broke it."

Dick shrugged. "It's not like it's my first case. I'm good staying here. Besides, I have school." Bruce didn't pursue it, if Dick didn't want to go, he didn't have to. The police had the evidence and could handle it from here.

Maybe he was still feeling the effects of the chloroform, not that the kid would admit it if he were.

In homeroom the rumors which had started last night (Brixton was a small town, no matter what the average income was) were now out of control.

"Man, I heard that she was planning on eating their hearts."

"She had bottles of human blood in her fridge, my sister said her boyfriend is friends with one of the Brix cops who arrested her and he saw them himself."

"She even charged the chloroform to the school; talk adding insult to injury."

"Her resume was complete bullshit. She never even went to Harvard, let along getting a Ph. D there."

Dick just listened, none of that mattered. Amy, Dave, Mr. Smith—who was seriously stupid or screwed up himself to go along with her—and the kid from the Acres were all dead.

He should have been happy or proud or pleased that he'd been the one who'd solved the crime; he was the one who cracked the case and that was good and he _was_ proud, but...

The day dragged, no work got done and the entire student body and faculty basically just talked about everything; the murders, that it was probably their principal, the losses. A lot of people cried.

It was a bad day.

But he knew that tomorrow would be a little better, as would the one after that. Slowly, things would get better at Brixton, classes would resume for real this week and they'd recover. The families affected wouldn't, of course, but things would get back to normal, at least on the surface.

Back at the manor that afternoon Alfred handed Dick the plate of fresh and still warm cookies.

"Thanks—comfort food?"

"Whatever works, as you might say, master Dick. Might I ask why you're not more pleased with the good work you did?"

He finished the first cookie. "It's like a lot of the cases we work. In fact, this one bothers me more than most because it was so completely pointless. And it was close to home; Dave's been in my classes since I moved here, he was a good guy. It's just the waste, I guess, does that make any sense?"

"Of course, but surely you realize that you're not dealing with rational people—the Joker, Harvey Dent, Catwoman and the rest, surely you've come to understand that they're not in their right minds. With that as a given, one can't really expect such things to make much sense, can one?"

"I know that, but..."

"The best one can hope for is containment. You did an admirable job, without question you prevented others from the same fate as her unfortunate victims." He refilled Dick's milk glass. "It's natural for you to be upset about the very real losses, but you also have every right—particularly at your young age, I stress—to be proud of what you've done."

"I know that, I am. I just keep thinking that maybe I could have stopped her sooner." Dick didn't say anything about him being on her short list of next in line. He ate another of the cookies, they were incredibly good.

Teenagers, always so hard on themselves, everything a crisis.

"I believe that the expression you're looking for is the somewhat less than articulate, shoulda, woulda, coulda. Come now, Master Dick, you know that you make a difference and, may I say, if you're not aware of this then you're very much in the minority. Batman and Robin make a difference, as do the Justice League and your own Teen Titans. Heavens, even Master Superman has gone out of his way on several occasions to sing your praises."

"I know. You're right, I know you're right." He reached for another cookie, chewed for a moment and suddenly brightened. "Y'know, I was having trouble sleeping last night—probably a leftover from being gassed or something—anyway, I was looking through some of the old cases I've worked on and it was weird."

"How so?"

"Well, seriously, there's pretty weird stuff that's gone down; giant coins, dinosaurs, space aliens, Atlantis, megalomaniacs, nut-jobs trying to take over the world. Weird stuff, and that doesn't take into account the run of the mill hi-jackers, thieves, murderers, kidnappers and the rest. And we beat them all—and that's before I can legally drive a car."

"Yes, well I would think that you're memoirs will prove quite interesting one of these days."

The boy laughed, Alfred's goal for the moment. "Hell, it hasn't been boring and that's no lie." More laughter, "Yeah, I get where you're going, Alf, thanks. He stood up, picked up his backpack and started out. "I'll make you a bet."

"Will you, now?"

"I bet my memoirs make the best seller lists."

"I don't take sucker bets, young man."

8/22/09


End file.
